Luckbar Jack

We came home from our Sunday afternoon walk to a cacophony of buzzing and crashing sounds. Our neighbour was up in his trees trying to finish the pruning job he started last Fall. There is a tight cluster of four trees in the corner of his yard that he apparently does not like. We like it because it hides the other neighbour's ugly deck.

The dutiful wife was safely on the ground, keeping the extension cord connection intact, and bringing him tea and bananas, while keeping a safe distance away.

Lucky the Lumberjack was perched almost 30 feet above the ground, one arm wrapped around the tree, the other wielding an electric chain saw. Note the safety equipment: Hard hat, safety rope, steel toed logging boots, gloves, etc.

He suddenly found himself in a tangle because the branches he was cutting were not falling to the ground but getting hung up on lower branches.

He deftly extricated himself from that pickle, and began sawing off the very branch he was standing on.

He did leave himself a tiny foothold, but it was still a long way down to his ladder.

With a mighty stretch and one last perch to support his weight, he got one foot on the top rung of the ladder.

Then he started 'burning his bridges behind him'. No turning back now. But what about the tops of these huge trees? They are now so severely pruned that they will surely die.

Perhaps he learned about Western Red Cedar and Birch in the Punjab. Or perhaps he was avoiding a permit, from the city, to remove the trees.

If you prune them and they die, you do not need a permit to remove them nor are you required to replace them.

Trust these people to bend the rules to their advantage. Now we have four tall, very ugly sticks pointing to the sky, and no more birds that used to nest in this cluster of beautiful trees. The neighbour behind the photo no longer will have that wonderful midsummer shade in his yard, and we have to look at what was being successfully hidden there. I do not understand his reasoning nor his methods. Perhaps he only needed firewood.

City bylaws prevent me from building a fence high enough to block this ugly sight.   

It Happened Right There!

This beautiful Tudor home was undergoing a massive renovation when I first came on the scene. I worked here for many weeks and got to know these people very well, too well actually. But that is another story. I remember the one really weird thing that happened here, and will never forget it. 

The master suite on the upper floor was being enlarged by incorporating another bedroom and closet to give room for a massive en suite and two walk-in closets. The floors had been ripped up and there were only open floor joists in one end of the room. The carpenter was carrying some materials across the joists when his foot slipped and came crashing through the family room ceiling below. I had just painted that ceiling and now I had to call in a drywall and texture repair guy. He came very quickly and it was soon ready for another paint job. It was perfect and you could not see where the incident had happened. 

A few days later, the  lady of the house returned from her holiday and told me she had heard that something had happened to her family room ceiling. I recounted the story and then showed her where the foot had come through and asked her if she could see where the damage had been repaired. We were standing in the adjoining kitchen, peering intently at the very spot where the damage had been done, trying to detect any telltale marks, when right at that precise moment, two feet came crashing through the ceiling, right there. I was speechless, but the carpenter was not. He was screaming in pain. He was straddling the floor joist with a load of materials to give him added weight, and he did not care much about any damage he had done other than to himself. 

When he came limping back from the hospital a few hours later, we offered to buy him a new piece of equipment. A parachute!     

Instant Change

I have an ongoing series on this blog that gives a brief description of some of the homes and characters I have worked for over the years. A full list of these posts is on the sidebar under 'Homes I Know'.

I was called to this home a number of years ago when the owners had to make some major alterations to accommodate a wheelchair. I had never met these people before and noted that the man of the house was quite a bit younger than me, and was the one in the wheelchair. I noticed he was not too adept with his transportation and soon found out that he had only come home from the hospital a few months previous. He had been a meat cutter at a local supermarket, making a good living. He loved his recreation, or at least used to.

He told me how he had been into ATV's (all terrain vehicles) and was out one weekend enjoying the trails around their cabin in the wilderness. He was not fooling around or even going fast, but turned around a bend in the trail and the front wheel hit a tree root that was jutting above the trail. The ATV flipped forward and he was thrown over the vehicle, hit a tree, and broke his neck. He was instantly paralysed from the waist down.

His words to me were, "Life is good, you are having a great time in the outdoors, doing what you love, when suddenly, in the blink of an eye, your life changes. As much as you want to take the moment back and do something differently, you cannot, and forever, your life is altered." He had tears in his eyes as he slowly and clumsily wheeled into his bedroom, where he stayed for the rest of the day.

Remembering To Say Thank You

I have had time to do some soul searching and review of the last several months. I see some encouraging and some discouraging trends. Apart from a wonderful holiday, there is an issue staring me in the face and that is the lack of work. From Dec. 12 to Feb. 12, I worked a total of 5 hours, for pay, and I have not yet been paid as of today. January of 2010 was a banner month, my best January ever, just to compare. You would be shocked at the figures. I am. 

In the last two weeks things have picked up a little and we worked almost every day even working a full 8 hours, for the first time since December, just yesterday. 

The discouraging thing about this is that I am not willing nor able to retire just yet. In my last few good working years, it would be better that I work than that I do not. I am losing it physically, and my retirement plans cannot kick in until I reach a certain age or I will run out of money sooner than later. 

The encouraging trend is that this does not bother me as much as it has in the past. In talking to others, I have it good, by comparison. The middle aged fellow I met last week who has a huge mortgage and two kids and is also out of work is in a state of desperation. I am not. 

I am finding myself becoming more grateful these days. In the past, when things have gone sideways for me, I have greatly regretted not being more thankful when my situation was better. Well, now I am very thankful.  My prayers these days are almost all about gratitude. I am finding that everything in my life is a gift and I am thankful for it. Every new day, every breath, laying my head on my pillow at night with no pain, in a warm bed, and with a full stomach, being as healthy as I am, is just so fantastic. It may not always be so. 

So, I say thank you continually, and whatever comes my way, well, I have become more relaxed about it.   

Do You Have This Disorder?

You are walking down a busy street, anxious to get to your destination, when someone is strolling in front of you and blocking your progress. You almost instantly get upset and even hostile, wanting to swat them up side the head and get them to walk faster, like you are doing. 

It is now a very common disorder, the cousin to 'road rage', and is commonly known as 'sidewalk rage'. But wait. This condition is now getting a lot of study and has taken on the respectability of having an official name and getting its own scientific studies. It is called "Intermittent Explosive Disorder". 

If you 'suffer' from this disorder, don't worry. You are not alone and it is OK to be this way because it is a 'disorder'. I guess like drinking too much alcohol and having the disease of alcoholism. 

Is it just me, or is this business of justifying bad behaviour getting just a bit silly. Polio was a disease, Smallpox is a disease, Schizophrenia is a disorder, Autism is a disorder, but being rude on the sidewalk a disorder? Give me a break. When are we going to stop legitimizing rudeness and lack of self-control with fancy names and studies? The heart of man is deceitful and wicked and if we are going to call it a disorder, let's call it by its real name. It is a 'sin disorder'. And we all have it.    

Mix

I was at Costco the other day and just before I found my place in the long line at the check-out, I grabbed a little Dixie cup full of something they were handing out at the end of the candy isle. You know, something to munch on while I was waiting my turn. I entered lane 8 at position 10 and was in for a long wait, but I had my little snack. I popped a few morsels into my  mouth and ... Wow! I put the rest of the mix in my mouth and before I swallowed it, I was heading out of the line back to the sample station to see what it was that I was eating. Yes, I eat unknown things. (I had just had a microwaved bit of sausage sandwich in the freezer isle and almost gagged.) 

I discovered that the samples were 'Wildroots 100% Natural Trail Mix'. Let me tell you, this is good stuff. I grabbed a package without looking at the price, much as you would when choosing an ice-cream cone at Ben and Jerry's. 

Fast forward to the hockey game last night. We had a terrific dinner of pork chops with all the fixin's, with Lemon Pie for dessert. Oh yes, busylizzy feeds me like that every day. How do you think I maintain my growing pot belly. 

We were back in front of the TV for the second period and the game was a bit of a nail biter at times and a snack was needed. I hauled out the trail mix. Mistake. I was not hungry, and I was placing a highly addictive food form in front of my face and there was a hockey game on. This is a recipe for disaster. I could not stop, and I don't mean cheering. This stuff is so good. Oh, I guess I said that already. 

It will never replace chocolate, but this mix has the appearance, at least, of being healthier than chocolate. 

Now excuse me while I grab what is left of that trail mix and have just a tiny little handful before I run off to Costco to 'stock up'. They have some exercise equipment on sale there too. That might make a good combo.     

Reflections on Valentine's Day

I did not forget Valentine's Day yesterday. One can only reflect on a day when it has passed, so here is my Valentine's day post. 

I did the flower thing yesterday and was struck by how many men I saw rushing out of the store with a bouquet of roses clutched in their hands. I wondered how many were wracked with guilt, smitten by love, or relieved that now their duty was done.

The card and flower people love it and are the real beneficiaries of this manufactured and consumer driven day. But not to be too cynical, we all need a day to remind us that there is not enough love going around, or at least, there can never be too much. 

My choice would be chocolate, obviously, but busylizzy is restrained by dietary considerations so it would be rather self serving for me to buy her chocolates and end up eating them all myself, although I did consider that option. Every day should be Valentine's day, a day when we shower our loved ones with gifts and affection, so with that in mind, I will make another shopping excursion and get some of that chocolate after all. She can enjoy the roses and I will eat her chocolates. Our chocolates. My chocolates. Whatever. 

Happy belated Valentine's day.   

Birthday for George

Saturday night was the big party for busylizzy's younger brother and heir to the family throne. If there were to be a throne. Sorry, I am reminded of the movie "The King's Speech" about King George.

It was good of him to come. Not all could make it. One brother is in Calgary and reserves his trips for extraordinary occasions. George has a birthday every year, or so I am told, so this was quite an ordinary occasion. Another brother called at the last minute and was busy with his gravel operation. He has a built in rock quarry and one of the rocks was attempting to exit his kidney just in time for the birthday. 

busylizzy made a superb dinner of Cornish Game Hens with all the fixin's. The Tuxedo Birthday Cake, for desert, was awesome. The one obligatory candle was very special. Our family is well known for its lack of musical ability so this candle did all the singing for us. It was the one that represented the 58. Oops, now I have given it away. I do not see the point of keeping people's birthday's a secret when they are younger than me. 

The matriarch and patriarch of the family were also in attendance. They did not hear much, but looked like they were enjoying themselves. George's mother gave him a shirt in size medium. He modeled it for us, sucking everything in so it appeared as though it was a perfect fit, but was showing fatigue after a few minutes of agony. Mother thought it was his size. He asked when it was that she last bought him a shirt. She replied that it was when he was a teenager. It was a shocker for her to realize that he had grown. It is not only her ears that are faulty. :)  

We were just getting into it when the farm boy, who was also the birthday boy, had to leave to do chores. Suddenly almost everybody else left too. Apparently, there were TV and telephone issues at the old folks residence and various sons wanted to rectify these issues while they were in town. That left us with busylizzy's sister and her husband and we had a pleasant visit until much later. 

Now that the precedence has been set, I see many more of these parties on the horizon.  

Ready to Party

Over the last few days I have been working at the decorating project here at home. I completed the crown mouldings on Wednesday and on Thursday we got all the walls painted. We put curves in all the corners to make it look more like a 'Hobbit' house. Actually, Andrew took these photos with his amazing fish eye wide angle lens.

There used to be wallpaper on the top 5 feet of the wall, and then that beige paint on the bottom 3 feet. Here you see all the little repairs on the walls and all the trimming in of the new colour, not that different from the colour we had before, but a better tone with carpet.

The wall in the entry is freshly rolled and wet. That white you see straight ahead is the colour the whole house was when we bought it in 1986.

Caught in the act at the end of the hall.

An action shot. My customers freak out when I do this over their carpets. I guarantee a new carpet if I spill. I do not spill and you would not believe the time I save by not 'tarping' everything. It is all technique and high quality spatter resistant paint.  

I am really on a roll now!

Dry and sort of back together now. There is still the small issue of new window treatments (the old pink blinds have got to go), a new entry light fixtures, wallpaper on the feature wall, and getting some art and mirrors on the walls.

It looks larger and much less busy without the old wallpaper and borders, but I like the cleaner look. We just re-painted all the doors and trim last winter after all the new windows were installed, so everything is now fresh and new.  

There was a rush put on this project because there is a birthday party happening here on Saturday (today). It is not 100 % complete but it will do. You can also see the newly re-finished Maple table complete with the two extensions. We will have 14 around this table on Sat.

I like the curved walls. I think we will keep them.

Who Am I?

View from Hovely Lane in Palm Desert, looking southwest.

I am a former School Teacher who now runs a multi-million dollar municiple corporation, in spite of the fact that I never even operated a Popsicle stand. 

I ran for office on the promise that I would give people good value for their money. 

I have raised taxes more than the inflation rate every single year. 

I have imposed strict water restriction in the wettest place in Canada. 

I have signed a 10 year agreement to pay a hockey team to play in our town, a team that cannot draw enough fans to even cover the cost of operations. 

I have just hired a consulting firm to justify a 9% increase in my pay. That firm charged the tax payers $9000.00 for that simple task. 

I am again raising taxes this year, almost double the inflation rate. 

Who am I? Why I am the mayor of Abbotsford. Don't you just love the way I run the show? Can't you just wait for the next election?  

Near Miss

Six hundred years ago, there was a total eclipse of a full moon.  And now we were in the desert, with little light pollution, soaking in the hot tub, with time on our hands, and it was going to happen again. Late evening it began and soon the moon was half covered by the shadow of the earth. And then the clouds suddenly rolled in, and in a matter of minutes, the view was totally obscured, and we missed it. Oh well, maybe next time.

A few weeks later, I was face up beside the pool on a sunny day, thinking about how I missed that rare event, and marvelling how the moon was now only half, but so visible in the sky in the early afternoon, when suddenly, I saw a jet liner hurtling toward it.

My mind was racing. How could I quickly get to a place where I could get a photograph of the plane crashing into the moon. By the time I would get dressed and run the fourteen blocks to the south to line up the shot, it would be too late.

So, I lay there and watched, knowing that yet again.....

.....I missed a rare and momentous event.

Downtime

My list of customers "who will call" is growing by the day. It stands at around 15 right now but today I got a call from someone not on the list who wants me to come on Wed. Last year I had the best January ever in my business, and this year I had 5 hours of work, which I have not yet been paid for. I met another contractor today who had a similar story to mine. No work. We are both worried that when the phone finally starts ringing, we will have to be in several different places at once. It has happened before.

Meanwhile, today we threw together another colour scheme for our house and the paper is ordered and I bought the paint today. I have to fast track this project now because there is a big in-law birthday party happening here this Saturday. It would be a pity to push all the furniture back in place if the walls were not done.

On Hold

On Friday I was informed that the wallpaper we had ordered, around which the whole colour scheme was chosen, was no longer available. Now our little re-decorating project is on hold until we not only chose another paper, but are assured it will arrive. Fortunately I had not ordered the paint on Friday morning like I had wanted to. Had we not spent the day installing the Crown Mouldings, I would have had most of the wall painted already. So, today it is back to square one, paging through the books, trying to find something we both like. I want to go dramatic, busylizzy wants to stay calm and subtle. Note that these choices for both of us are opposite of our personalities. Can any of you psychologists out there explain this to me?  

Try This One

Stylized Palm Desert scene.

"Try this one."

"No thanks. That one was delicious and I think I have had my fill. Besides, didn't you say that one was 'hot'?

"It's not that spicy, try it"

There were the three delicious home made pizzas, sitting in front of me, tempting me. We were invited to busylizzy's sister's for a Saturday night dinner and it was great. I know my limitations, but it was so good and I fell. It was not that spicy, and just as good as the other one I had been eating from.

Later, we had coffee and a wonderful fresh out of the oven peach cobbler with ice-cream. I dove into the delectable dish, relishing every mouthful. Soooo good with coffee. And decaf too so I would sleep at night.

Fast forward. It is now 3:30 am and here I sit, tap tapping away at my keyboard, heartburn smouldering in my upper GI. When will I learn. This is totally my fault, my lack of self control, my not being able to say no. This does not happen often, but when it does, I kick myself, and then reach for the Tums. I felt the kick, but I have not yet felt the Tums. Time to get out the big guns, the baking soda. That will knock it back and I may get some sleep.

You Can't Do That Here

I am taking a break from Crown Mouldings and came across a hilarious news article. It is surprising what makes the news these days, but here it is. The above photo is Lake Malawi in Malawi Africa. It is the fifth poorest country in the world, but is trying its darnedest to do something about air quality, you know, pollution. It seems that the government recently introduced a bill to ban .... well, passing gas, prepetating, blowing wind, indeed, farting. In a concerted effort to reduce carbon emissions, this activity will be only allowed indoors. I laugh so hard I can hardly type. My mother used to tell me to "go outside if you have to do that". Well, not in Malawi. What safer place to 'let one' than in the great outdoors? 

Somehow, if we keep the gas indoors, the air quality will be better. Well, not indoors, it will not! 

How are they going to enforce this edict? I can see it now. Park wardens with parabolic microphones, and sniffer dogs, not rooting out drugs or poached animal parts, but flatulence! 

The primary diet in Malawi is vegetables, mainly cabbage. That bloated feeling, especially among the aged population, could turn into some serious explosions for law abiding citizens. Can't you just see a fellow, gardening, and suddenly running into the house to relieve himself. Just as suddenly the house empties and now everyone wants to work in the garden. 

So, tourists, take note. Pack a suit case full of Beano if you are considering a vacation to Malawi. 

Perhaps all this will accomplish is to insure that Malawi will remain poor. But the air up there will be great!   

Happy Birthday Rachel

Yesterday was my daughter Rachel's birthday. But I am writing this on her birthday. It is like one of those belated birthday cards that was sent on the birthday but arrived late.

When busylizzy and I left Ocean Falls for the last time, Rachel was on her way. (see 'Ocean Falls' in labels in sidebar) She got to travel across Canada with us before her debut. She was a most welcome child and her arrival came with great joy. She was an absolutely delightful little girl and with her cute home made outfits and long blond braids, she drew attention where ever we took her. 

That was long ago and there is much history and many stories that made up her life, that brought her to the place she is now. 

Now, she is a wife and a mother of three wonderful boys. We are so very proud of her and we love her very much.  

Happy Birthday!

Oh, we were going to buy you a house for your birthday, but Keith beat us to it. :)

One generation later, getting help, with the candles, from Liam.

Not so Easy Pay

When travelling all day in the state of California, I do not look forward to filling up with gas. The gas stations do not take credit cards unless you enter your zip code into the touchpad at the pump. So us deprived foreigners who do not have a zip code have to enter the store and give our credit card, unguarded, or pre-pay for a determined amount before they turn the gas pumps on. This way, one can never 'fill up' and as a result, more stops for gas. 

It was a relief to get into Oregon, although there, one is not allowed to 'self serve'. Washington state is where things get back to normal. You put in the credit card, fill up, pull off your receipt, and go. Well, not quite normal because I have a Shell EasyPay tag which is not recognised in Washington state. 

I have had this tag for many years and enjoy the very rapid convenience of it. Swipe it, fill up, grab the receipt and run. Until today, the day I used my new tag for the first time. (the original one feel apart from use.) 

I swiped my card, it indicated "recognised", but the pump would not turn on. I was about to go to the attendant when I noticed on the display that I was supposed to enter the amount of my fuel purchase. I always fill up so I only punched in what I thought would not be too much. Then I went inside and had a conversation, in Punjabrish (Punjabi/English). It seems they started this business in December, when I was gone. I was told it was because "some people are stealing credit cards". 

No kidding. But what does this accomplish? How can I fill up? 

"You have to be leaving your credit card with us or your keys or your wallet and then be filling up and then come and pay us" 

"But how do I know you will not steal my credit card number or stuff in my wallet or make a duplicate of my house key which is on my key ring?"

"Oh, we are not inclined to steal, sir." 

"But, tell me how this is EasyPay?" 

"You just are swiping your tag, sir." 

"But I cannot fill up now, easily, can I" 

"I am supposing not, sir."   (My new beard brings me a lot of respect, hence the "sir") 

"So, how do you know that the credit card that is linked to the EasyPay I swiped is not a stolen credit card?" 

"I am not knowing that, sir. Maybe you are stealing the EasyPay tag." 

"But what difference is that to you, the store owner. The credit card company pays you if the tag and the credit card are validated, and they just were. If they are stolen, they would be validated too, until I reported the tag or card stolen. So why inconvenience your customers?"

"I am not knowing, sir, all the Shell stations are doing it."

"Ah-ha. They are all doing it. Well, that seems a good reason to do it. I will go to the Chevron and see if they want my business."

"Sorry, sir"

Progress

My second experiment with re-finishing the table has failed. I stripped the remaining pieces, for the second time, but the polyurethane I applied to one of the table extensions developed 'fish eyes' once again. I got some professional advice and Wed. morning I will try 'plan c'. . At least the table and one extension is only stained to this point. I left mid morning in frustration, but had a job to go look at. When I came back I had a fresh perspective and will continue. But I checked to if I still knew where my axe is stored.   

We resumed the wallpaper stripping and decided to leave the wall behind the fireplace. It had wood panelling originally and when I hung this red paper, I 'mudded' the panelling only to the point where the seams would not show through the wallpaper. This time, because we are re-papering that wall, I will just throw on some primer and then paper over the whole thing. This will save us some time. Right now, this is the only colour remaining in our living area.

I stripped on this plank yesterday, but had only two non paying spectators. They left when they thought I was going to fall down. The bird wreath and the dated flowered wallpaper are history. Our home is so stark right now. It was originally white and it is that again. If I won the lottery (or even had some work) I would replace this old Mediterranean style spindle rail. But that would necessitate the replacement of the carpets or the installation of hardwood floors.  The old can of worms rearing its ugly expensive head again. One thing we will do that we said we would not, is install crown mouldings. Now that the wallpaper and all the borders are gone, I cannot see not doing it. I will be giving this job to a friend who does this all the time. If I do it myself, what I save in labour, will all go into the cost of a compound miter saw, something I will probably never use again. And, the crown mouldings will look like they were done by somebody who did not know what they were doing and took two weeks to do them. 

The ugly work is done now. The rest is fun.    

Confessions of a Male Stripper

Alas, it is true. I am a male and I have become a stripper, in more ways than one. The remedial experiment, on the dining room table, happened first thing this morning, and it involved stripping, yet again, the finish, the new finish, that I put on last week. It came off a little easier but the fumes were much worse. They were choking me and burning my eyes badly. After settling down my screaming smoke detector, I opened the door to let in the -3C outside air and even set up a fan to blow the fumes away from my face. I will probably have cancer from this 50 years from now. I then sanded, and sanded, and sanded. Then cleaned the surface with solvents and finally re-applied the penetrating stain. It looks really good now but in the morning I will apply the first coat of polyurethane and will know immediately if it will work this time.  

Stripping Part II

We have talked about re-decorating the main area of our house for the last 15 years. Today talk became reality. On Sunday we finalized a decor package and agreed on just how far we would dip into the can of worms that re-decorating always opens up. You know how that works. "If we change that, then that over there looks dated and ratty and it has to go too." 

We agreed on a limit but have already over stepped the boundary. Being a full time paper hanger way back when, naturally, I hung a lot of paper in my own home. I always hoped we would sell and someone else could struggle with the removal of said wallpaper. It seemed a poor reason to sell the house, so we are now stripping wallpaper, as you can tell from the photos. It requires multiple soakings and in the process, the paint underneath is softened and some of it is coming off with the wallpaper. That means a lot of 'mudding' or 'drywall repairs'. That's OK. We know how to do that.   

So, our house is in a turmoil and will be for a while. This project will be a priority for my 'off' time, something I have a lot of at the moment. I am enjoying informing the telemarketers, that so frequently call, that I cannot donate or buy, because I am un-employed. Well, I am working, but certainly not getting paid for it. And really, that is the only reason I have ever consented to stripping, either varnish, or wallpaper. Stripping is hard work and a guy should get paid for it. Hey, even busylizzy is getting excited watching me do it. Maybe she will pay me. I know it is making her very happy!  

We are still welcoming guests, providing they like sitting on the floor, and providing they enjoy watching male strippers.

These little birds will be coming down in the next day or two. That very dated wallpaper behind them will be coming down, but it is at the top of our 'cathedral' entry. Yours truly will be doing a, well, not a pole dance, but a plank dance, while he strips from the top of a scaffold. If you want to come and watch, the admission price is only $20 dollars, but don't be surprised if you are handed a spray bottle and a scraper.